Savannah courier. (Savannah, Tenn.) 1885-1979, 1887-04-14
PICTURES In ROME.
Drawn with the Loving Pen of
Foreign Wanderer.
Beautiful Children Still Seen In Its
Streets Who Might BE Types
for q Raphael-A Middle.
Age Pilgrim.

often see the most touching traits
of kindness manifested by Italian chill
dren. | seldom, very seldom, hear
child cry; almost never see two chill
dren quarreling. There are no pictures
of Italy that | so often wish l could
transfer to my friends at home as
scenes in which children are the act
ing characters.
A few days since it was bright
afternoon and instead of the vatican,
the capitol or churches to see-most of
our little party had shopping to do. |
had been looking over Hans Ander-
sons pictures of Roman life in his
"Improvisatore," the most perfect tab
ieaur viUaats of Rome that any writer,
even Hawthorne, has ever drawn,
Hawthorne's are in quite another style,
perfect of their kind, but Hans Ander-
son makes you see Rome. You "catch
the living manners as they rise " as no
other writer pictures them. l started
out alone, not knowing or caring
whittier my steps would lead me. |
think sympathy with the child life of
the Improvisatore" led me to where
the opening years of his were passed
and into scenes that made his
pictures as real as if they were
actually passing before me. l
found myself in the piazza
Barberini and. without at all
looking for it, at the corner of the
via Felico and beside the fountain that
he describes on the first page of his
story, where "the water pours through
the pipes out of the wall down into a
stone basin" Of l can only by my
suggestions get you to read the story
my letter will not be lost work
Two children were playing at the fount-
ain and several others just around, all
evidently of the poorer class. But the
children at the fountain especially at
tracted my attention. One was little
girl who must have been of about the
same age as my little church acquaint-
ance She was in charge of little
brother, SUPPOSEDLY eight years old.
She wanted to play with the falling
streams of water. But she was by this
wetting her grenabilino (apron) as the
brother kept telling 'piccina mia, "
''preziasa mis-" "cara, carissima mia
(my little one, precious one, dear one)
in the softest, tenderest tones, that
were like the music of flute.
But she, regardless of wetting
her apron, persisted in put
ting her hands through the
streams of the bright water, and was
crying and sobbing to have such a JOY
taken from her. l stopped to see the
fountain that the "Improvisatore" re-
grets should have been left out of the
engraving of the Piazza, and became
interested in the two children and the
tender care of the boy over his little
sister, and his efforts to keep her out Of
the water. His sweet voice and the term.
of endearment he used to persuade her
went to my heart. 1t was little of what
he said that | could understand, but
caught the endearing terms he used
and the child's voice was Language
that interpreted his words. But wheI
he raised his head, turned toward me
and lifted his cap, as ! spoke to thu
little one crying for the bright water
his face was such dream of beauty a
1t seemed to me / had never realized il
actual, fieshy childhood. 1t is no won
der that Raphael and Correggio coul'
paint angels and beautiful Christ chill
dren if they could paint portraits, 70
l have never been into the streets any
. where in Italy but l have seen chill
dren as beautiful as any angels o.
Christ child that ever glowed on an,
painters canvas.
l laid big penny in the little girl
hand with which to buy some cake at
shop near by. This dried her tears.
asked of the little boy which street le'
where wished to go and left them. tn
brother trying to persuade the littl
zone to say grazta to the signora VIII
had given her the penny for cake. an
to explain to me that he did not willing
d. " make his little sister cry, bu
mamma had intrusted her to his car
and he must not let her wet her clothe
as she was doing. l left them, bu
never to forget the scene upon which
had chanced-as we call chdnce-no
the beauty of that boys angel face
he lifted his cap to me, looking up froT
the basin of the fountain over which h
was bending. Sure am that sha
find that face again. or what it mear
To me. as sure as Robert Browning